


Isolation

by MCUsic_to_my_ears



Series: Whumptober 2019 [3]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Technology, Confusion, Death, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hospitalization, Hospitals, Implied/Referenced Terrorism, Injury, Major Illness, Medical Trauma, Panic, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker calls Tony Stark dad, Serious Injuries, Sokovia Accords, Terminal Illnesses, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Whump, Whumptober, Whumptober 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-27 08:42:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20945519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MCUsic_to_my_ears/pseuds/MCUsic_to_my_ears
Summary: Peter was off duty. That didn't mean that the villains were too.***Whumptober 2019 Day 7: Isolation





	Isolation

“Dad?” Peter called, coughing weakly. The word sounded odd, even to himself. Off-kilter, like the rest of his body. Halfway in, halfway out of a proper sensory experience. He tried to blink, but he couldn’t tell if it were blindingly bright or pitch dark. Either way, he had spots dancing in his eyes and a pounding headache that wouldn’t give. “Dad, what’s going on? Where- where are you?” He tried to sit up, but found himself unable to move. He feebly jerked his arms up only to find them unable to go further than an inch or two in order direction. 

He squinted down to where his hands would be, but still couldn’t make anything out. His skin felt like it was burning, but he couldn’t suppress a shiver that ran through his body. 

“Hey, Pete.” 

Tony’s voice. Tony. But, wrong. Peter tilted his head. Far away, wrong, bad. Sounded like a robot. 

“Dad?” he called out again. 

“Yeah, buddy, I’m here.” He sounded sad. Peter frowned. Tony shouldn’t sound sad, his dad- Tony. No. Wrong. “It’s alright, kiddo, just. Just breathe for a second. No need to be going crazy in there.”

Peter stopped squirming around. Everything, even the fabric he was pinned down against, was muffled. “What happened?”

The electronic noise accompanying Tony’s voice clicked on a moment or two before Tony spoke. “You were meeting with your handler, do you remember that?”

Peter searched his mind for his most recent memory. His handler… his- Ms. Carla. Every hero who signed the Accords was assigned a handler, not unlike a parole cop, to make sure they kept their nose out of trouble. As far as agents went, Ms. Carla was one of the better ones. She gave Peter a little more wiggle room than most did, likely due to his youth and his position as a level two vigilante, not a Captain America type. Plus, she let Peter follow her on Instagram, so she had to be at least a little cool. 

Ever since he signed the Accords only six months before, they met once a month, usually at a diner or coffee shop. That day had been no different, when they found a corner table at a local coffee house and went through Peter’s recent reports. But… something had happened. Peter focused further on the event, he could nearly smell the sweet sugar and bitter coffee, and hear the blender and clanking of ice in the lemonades. The young hero crinkled his nose. A sharp, tangy smell, his Spidey Sense pinging, followed by-

Peter forced his eyes open. “Are they okay?”

“Peter-”

“Are they okay?” he shouted, yanking against his restraints in a burst of energy. A bomb had gone off in the store. At least that’s what he’d thought. He’d jumped up, trying to stumble through the haze of customers and employees to the worst of the damage. Except the coppery scent of blood never hit him. The churning in his gut only worsened, his breaths becoming labored until he had to stop searching for people to help and hunch over. In his last moments of consciousness, he’d yanked his phone out of his pocket with uncoordinated fingers and struggled to instruct, “Karen, call Mister-” His airways closed momentarily and he coughed to regain control. “Call Dad,” he begged. The smoke filled room overtook him. 

Peter focused back on the present blearily. A too-fast beep of his heart rate. The cool air conditioning circulating through the room. The cackling of a rudimentary PA system. He shifted around, trying to get a better sense of his surroundings. 

“They’re- when we got on the scene it was too late, Pete. You’re the only one who made it.”

Peter stilled. “No. No, they were still… No.” He thought back to the other patrons in the coffee house. Few people were near the device when it went off. He was one of the first to pass out because he was moving through it. There had to be others who had made it. 

“Those who were still alive when we got there didn’t make it to the hospital, bud. It’s not your fault. I know that’s what you’re thinking, but you’re wrong. There was nothing you could’ve done. The device… it had an alien bio-agent far too powerful for any human to encounter and withstand. Your body is fighting it off as best it can…”

Peter held his breath for a moment. “Am I going to die?” he asked weakly. No, that couldn’t be right. He couldn’t  _ die.  _ He just become an official superhero. He still had to graduate high school and to ask MJ out and go to college and- He couldn’t die. May would kill him. 

“No, buddy, not if I have anything to say about it. Dr. Banner and Dr. Cho are here. They’re doing everything they can to help you. We’ve got the best drugs and the best scientists trying to kick this bug’s butt. Don’t worry bud.”

Peter blinked back tears. “Dad.” There was that word again. Peter usually tried to suppress his urge to call Tony such a private name, but he couldn’t stop himself. Everything hurt. “Dad, can- can you come in here. I- I just really need a hug,” he choked on his words. 

Tony sighed. “I can’t buddy. Whatever they released, it’s highly contagious. Until we get this thing neutralized, you have to stay isolated.”

Peter broke at that, tears flowing freely as he sobbed, unable to wipe them away. “No, please. Please, Dad, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt. I know I- I messed up, please!” Peter begged, pulling uselessly at his restraints, only weakening his body. His limbs grew numb and forehead burned. 

The electronic buzz ensuring Tony’s presence clicked off. Peter continued to cry, begging his father to not leave him. 

His tears further obscured his visual field, which before had started to focus on a simple hospital room, windowless except for a door with a section revealing a small hallway and then a second doorway. As the hero exhausted himself, he stared at the tiny window in the dim light, hoping the door would open and his dad would sweep him away. 

He shuddered against the cold. No one was coming. Nor should they, he reasoned. He had failed to save the lives of so many others. Why couldn’t anyone else have survived?

Then, as the last of his tears slid down his face, the suction of air alerted Peter back to the door. Inside, a person in a puffy white suit--airtight, Peter realized--stood, waiting for the second door to pop open once the air was decontaminated.

“Hi, buddy,” Tony mumbled after he was allowed in the hospital room. His gloved hands stroked Peter’s hair as the boy whimpered, so overwhelmed that his mentor had come to him. “I’m sorry, kiddo. It’s always you, huh?” Peter nodded, unsure as to what Tony was referring to, but not wanting to disagree, lest the comfort stopped. “It’s alright, Pete. I’ve got you. We’ll take care of you, don’t worry.”

Peter sighed with relief. He shuddered under Tony’s gloved strokes, limbs finally relaxing. His eyes slipped shut. Tony continued to comfort his boy until hours later, Peter fell asleep one last time, a sustained tone joining in the father’s sobs. 


End file.
